I'm Sorry I Can't Be Perfect
by druidgoddess
Summary: Hey dad look at me Think back and talk to me Did I grow up according to plan? And do you think I'm wasting my time doing things I wanna do? But it hurts when you disapprove all along


Ever heard a song on the radio that created instant inspiration? Well heard "Perfect" by Simple Plan again and listened to the listening to the lyrics closely. Then it hit me, why not do a Neil-suicide fic to it? I mean, once you read it, it makes a lot of sense.

**"Perfect"**

_Hey dad look at me  
Think back and talk to me  
Did I grow up according to plan?  
And do you think I'm wasting my time doing things I wanna do?  
But it hurts when you disapprove all along  
_

He slid off his shirt and walked in a trance over to the windows. Slowly he undid the latch and opened them. A blast of icy December air bit at his exposed skin. What the hell was wrong with him? Couldn't he do anything right? Couldn't he do something that made him happy without his father's disapproval? Couldn't he live his own life? One not orchestrated by his father? Why he couldn't he breakaway? He could wait another six months until he was eighteen and legally no longer under his father's command._  
_

_And now I try hard to make it  
I just want to make you proud  
I'm never gonna be good enough for you  
_

He did want to make his parents proud, but was this prison sentence the only way? Did they not see he had other talent, greater talents? Being a doctor was only great; to him acting was to be extraordinary. His hands held lightly the diadem of Puck. His only connection to the most freedom he'd ever experienced. Up on the stage, seeing the crowd, _being_ another person; it had allowed him the conviction to deliver his parting lines to his father. But what difference had that made? None.

_I can't pretend that  
I'm alright  
And you can't change me  
_

Gently he set the thorn crown upon his head. Why did he keep changing and molding to what his father wanted? Didn't he have his own needs and wants? Why did he keep pretending that everything was all right? They told him to tell his father off and now he dwelt upon what could have happened if he had. Maybe things would have worked out differently, maybe for the better or for the worst. Good enough, hell, he was never going to be good enough for his father.

_'Cuz we lost it all  
Nothing lasts forever  
I'm sorry _

I can't be perfect

He spread his fingers and let the cold suck out the feeling. He thought and knew what he could do. Should he do it? He let his head drift down to his pale, frozen chest. He would, he would do it. If he couldn't be perfect, what was the point?

_Now it's just too late and  
We can't go back  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect_

He raised his hands and let them be pricked by the thorns as he removed the crown. He saw the blood seep through his tight and slow fingers. He felt a little pain. He set the thorns in the snow of the windowsill and pressed his hands in the white powder. The prints were tinted with pink. He drew them back up and blinked dully; it didn't hurt anymore. He was numb.

I try not to think  
About the pain I feel inside  
Did you know you used to be my hero?  
All the days you spent with me  
Now seem so far away  
And it feels like you don't care anymore

Memories flooded his mind as he turned to his door. His father had once been so interested in him. Besides telling how he should live and what was his future. He'd been a normal dad, the kind you depend on. Then there was Welton. At age twelve the pain started, the commands, the summer school and all of the studying. Did it matter anymore? Was there any reason to remember any of this? Everything already had gone down the hill; he had to make a decision for himself. One no one else could make for him._  
_

_And now I try hard to make it  
I just want to make you proud  
I'm never gonna be good enough for you  
I can't stand another fight  
And nothing's alright_

He couldn't stand another fight; another face off where his throat clogged and he could say anything. His father's stare pinning him in a corner where there was no way out and it was dark. It wasn't the straight and narrow; it was his own personal hell. He had tried to keep his parents happy and to make them proud but he had smothered his own dreams for so long. Now that he had resuscitated them and jogged them out, he was never going back. He didn't know if he could put those dear dreams back underneath the rock of obedience.

_'Cuz we lost it all   
Nothing lasts forever  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect  
Now it's just too late and  
We can't go back  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect_

He crept down the stairs of a house he knew well. The wood floors were cold and hard beneath his feet but he paid them no heed. He shuffled into the hall and to the door of the study. He put his hand on the shiny brass knob of the door and turned it. The door swung slowly open in sleek silence.

_Nothing's gonna change the things that you said  
Nothing's gonna make this right again  
Please don't turn your back  
I can't believe it's hard  
Just to talk to you  
But you don't understand_

He sat at the desk. The very chair from which his father commanded his power. He picked up the key that would open the draw that contained _it_. He turned the key in his hands, pausing for a moment. Did he want to do this?

'Cuz we lost it all  
Nothing lasts forever  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect  
Now it's just too late and  
We can't go back  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect

Yes, he did. He slipped the key in the lock and turned it over with a sinister click. With morbid desire upon his face he picked _it_ up. It was wrapped in a wad of cloth. He set it on the desktop. No more orders, no more broken dreams and no more of forcing himself to break his heart. He picked _it_ up and felt the weight that told him that it was loaded. He placed it against the side of his head. There was still time to back out. No, he was going to make this decision for himself.

_  
'Cuz we lost it all  
Nothing lasts forever  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect  
Now it's just too late and  
We can't go back  
I'm sorry  
I can't be perfect_

And Neil pulled the trigger.

Ok now I need a funeral march or Taps playing. My friend read it and said 'way too morbid.' And 'creepy much.' So I guess you should tell me what y'all think. I read on a website that had character sketches of the boys and they said Neil was a selfish bastard that killed himself for his own desires. And that Mr. Perry was right all along! So I was really pissed, so sat down and wrote this. (simple plan had perfect lyrics!) so um, c ya,

- The Druidess


End file.
